DAY TEN--BAR HARBOR, MAINE

I would be the first to admit that I grew up with delusions of grandeur accompanied by plans to rise above my station (pinned on my intention of marrying Teddy Kennedy...yes, Jack and Bobby's younger brother).  However, one dark and stormy Saturday afternoon toward the end of my senior year in high school I happened upon a "Town and Country" magazine which I eagerly opened.  There, in the section on weddings was my Teddy, accompanied by a gorgeous blonde wearing a wedding dress at their wedding reception.  I hadn't even known he was dating Joan, much less marrying her.  And, doing it all before I'd  had a chance to get to Massachusetts and introduce myself.  I was devastated.  My life--as I had envisioned it--was over, before I'd even reached legal drinking age.

Fifty years later, as we were choosing a cruise, I noted that this particular offering from Holland America included a day in Bar Harbor--favorite of the filthy rich and semi-famous.  This port played an immense role in my final decision on choice of cruises.  Since I hadn't been able to live the life that I, obviously, had not so carefully planned, I would stop in Bar Harbor, observe, take notes, and attempt a small-scale re-creation in SCG.

Our morning dawned (barely) under heavy fog, sporadic rain and gusty, cold winds.  However, the captain assured us that skies would clear by afternoon and all would be well.

We boarded our tender and bounced across the harbor, catching sight of this beauty along the way.  This is, perhaps, a bit too grand even for Sun City Grand, and would break every rule in our rather detailed CC&R book.  But, I'm strongly attracted to this home on the shore.

Wait!  This one is much closer to town and should also be large enough for all of the children, in-laws, and grandchildren that BC and I have accumulated together.  It also includes a "widow's walk" on the roof from which we could wave as said children, etc... sail in and out of the harbor in our newly acquired four-masted lovely...

Oops...I'm regressing.  This would never work in SCG and would be the devil to haul to Lake Powell, Lake Mead, or Lake Havasu.

The same could be said for this powerful and expensive yacht, but isn't she a beauty.  Whereas, I would be happy with a comfortable deck chair and a small pitcher of mimosas on the top deck, BC would be hanging off the back, fishing pole in hand.

Bar Harbor is the gateway to the Acadia National Park, and a drive through this park was really the main focus of our day.  The weather slowly cleared through the early afternoon, but (lovely as this was) it would have been spectacular with bright sun.

Years ago, I drove up the coast of Maine (I hate to sound a theme, but it also was in and out of heavy fog), and I remember being so impressed by the rocks juxtaposed with the waves and deciding the rocky shore of Maine was my kind of coastline.  I'm still there today.

More of the same is never really more of the same along this drive as a step to the right or left brings a whole new perspective.  We saw quite a few people hiking this trail.  Despite the sprinkles and cooler temps, they were the lucky ones.

 

     One last glimpse before we return to Bar Harbor.

Bar Harbor itself is fun--definitely a touristy summer village with  souvenir and t-shirt stores vying for street frontage with restaurants and ice-cream shops.  We contributed to them all.

 This ivy-covered restaurant didn't open until dinner, but I would have waited had we not been on a schedule.

BC has a weakness for ice-cream, especially any that contain bits of peanut butter, so this is a perfect compromise for us.  I know, the two spoon thing is not hygenic at all, but it's kind of romantic!  And, note the very cool giant blue and white umbrella next to the dish.  We finally had to break down after a couple of days of rain and it seemed a perfect Bar Harbor type of 'brella.

Time is flying, and it's back to the tender which will hold 120 souls as a tender and 150 as a life-boat.  When seen from a distance, a tender really resembles a little red tin can wallowing through the waves, but it delivered us safely to the shore and back, so I have no complaints.

Perfect!  The sun has come out, the deck chairs are dry, we have exciting books to read, and will hope against hope that a steward will soon come by balancing a tray of carefully chosen drinks.  Cheers!

DAY NINE--HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA

"I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by."
John Masefield

 

Enticed by a shore excursion entitled "Halifax Harbor by Premier Tall Ship", I immediately signed up the two of us for a "...true Nova Scotia sailing experience...on the historic tall ship Silva."  She's a 130 foot, three masted schooner built in 1939.  I don't know anything about schooners, but the closer I got, the more she looked like a fishing boat from "Deadliest Catch".  As the morning progressed, the slightly foggy, gray and windy day also seemed reminiscent of the nasty weather the "Deadliest Catch" is based upon.  I'm holding down my expectations.

Guests are invited to haul the lines on this journey, but I think I'll just take a few photos.

   The rigging is really quite cool and more than a little complicated to this landlubbers eye...but so graceful.

This extremely agile and good-looking fellow sets things up to both raise and lower the sails, as well as untuck and then tuck them back all nice and neat.  We had wind this morning so the sails cracked and popped as they were raised.  Expectation met.

Halifax Harbor is a large and fascinating body of water.  This is a small view of Georges Island which contains the ruins of Fort Charlotte, originally built for the Father Le Loutres War in 1749 and still in use during World War II when a German U-Boat (U1232) actually sank three ships near the entrance of the harbor in 13 minutes flat.  The fort is being restored now and should be available for tours in another year or so.  The largest man-made accidental explosion also took place in this harbor, wiping out a portion of Halifax itself.

The rains that threatened all morning finally let loose with a deluge, so we headed for the wheelhouse and a bit of traditional maritime music accompanied by lovely treats and hot coffee.

Halifax has an interesting skyline along the harbor.  They are absolutely fearless when it comes to mixing modern skyscrapers with traditional or historic low-rise buildings.  Somehow, just like Michelle Obama's J.Crew belts, it always works.

We're taking a look at Georges Island from the opposite side.  According to Wikipedia (who attribute it to the local fishermen), besides its two hundred plus year old history, Georges is known for a plethora of blueberries and black garter snakes.

We cruised on the Silva for two plus hours and had a wonderful time.  Our guide was never at a loss for words or information, we visited with cruise-mates we hadn't met yet, enjoyed our views, and simply absorbed the atmosphere.  The excursion was a good one...although sunny weather would have added a star or two to the experience.

That afternoon we visited the Canadian Museum of Immigration located very near our ship's dock.  I don't know why I thought the United States had the corner on immigration, but Canada received a million souls through Pier 21 in  the forty-plus years between 1928 and 1971.  The museum is nicely done with great imagination, high tech touches, and heart-rending stories balanced by those so touching they bring a tear of joy.

Halifax does deserve more than a day, but ours was a day well spent.  Next trip we'll visit the Citadel, Lunenburg, drive the Lighthouse Route and in Peggy's Cove visit  the graves of Titanic's victims.  In the meantime, we'll be thankful for the opportunities we had.

DAY EIGHT--SYDNEY, NOVA SCOTIA

It was Sydney's bad luck to be a scheduled port stop the day following Charlottetown.  Whereas, I thought everything about Charlottetown was wonderful, Sydney was the sad remainder of a town down on its luck.  At one time it had been a thriving manufacturing community producing high grade steel fired by coal from the surrounding mines.  But years passed and times changed.  The industries are long gone, and with them the spirit that drove this community for decades.  Now, it's hanging on, hoping the cruise ships will postpone its last gasp.

I have to say this...I have struggled for days (turning into weeks) on the appropriate thing to say about our day in Sydney.  I don't want to sound ungrateful--we're extremely fortunate to be on a cruise, for heaven's sake.  But, there was very little to redeem Sydney, and I actually felt a bit guilty walking through town.

             

That's not to say we didn't find interesting sites in Sydney.  Here, BC is standing in the loft of the oldest Roman Catholic Church in Cape Breton, the first stop of our "walkaround".  St. Patrick's, now a museum, was built in 1828 although the area was settled much earlier.  The first priest to come to Sydney, Father Henry MacKeagney, was determined to save the souls of the local Micmac people and, to that end, helped create a written language for them.

As much as I've tried to translate, using the few versions I know, I'm lost.

 

Why denture clinics?  Bad water?  Bad hygiene?  I took these photos with the idea of finding something clever to say about them, but there really isn't anything.  They're simply symptomatic of the pervasive low-grade depression that hangs over this community, along with the heavy gray clouds.

 

Yes, Sacred Heart is a lovely little church, but look at the congregants.  Older women.  I don't see a man at all, except for the glimpse of a priest in the corner.  Now, I'm more than aware that can happen in the normal scheme of things (I do live in a retirement community), but this seems too much.  Simple old age...or decades of man-killing hours in the mines and foundries?   

 

Even sugar didn't brighten the afternoon. This extremely nice young man is valiantly hanging on to his little shop and mixing very good fudge in the process.  He sells unique gift items, many flavors of ice cream, and hosts live music on the weekends.  I hope he makes it, but we were his only customers.

 

We watched a particularly poignant documentary in the Cape Breton Centre for Science and Heritage on George Street.  It must have lasted an hour and was extremely well done.  As the years unspooled  before us--discovery, exploration, settlement, growth, industry, growth, middle-class, growth, smiles and laughter, WWII ended, gradual decline, shocked faces, closed factories, lowered heads, tearful eyes, shaken voices...silence.

 

There is a sad place in my heart for the people of Sydney.  They are holding on tightly.